


with every second (you take my breath away)

by jeonhwa



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Hybrids, Knotting, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeonhwa/pseuds/jeonhwa
Summary: Wonwoo looks the best like this.He looks the best like this, when his eyes are dark and blown out and when his lips are red and shiny with spit and come. He looks the best like this, when his hair fans out over the pillow and when a deep red flush creeps over his shoulders. He looks the best like this, when his legs are splayed apart, so openly, so freely, and when the expression on his face is nothing short of adoration and affection and fondness and some other words that he can’t quite put a name to.(what wonwoo is willing to give, mingyu is more than willing to take.)





	with every second (you take my breath away)

**Author's Note:**

> dirty dirty

Wonwoo looks the best like this.

He looks the best like this, when his eyes are dark and blown out and when his lips are red and shiny with spit and come. He looks the best like this, when his hair fans out over the pillow and when a deep red flush creeps over his shoulders. He looks the best like this, when his legs are splayed apart, so openly, so freely, and when the expression on his face is nothing short of adoration and affection and fondness and some other words that he can’t quite put a name to.

“Hurry up,” Wonwoo urges, and Mingyu snaps out of the near-trance he’d been in. Wonwoo’s ears, the pointed ones perched on the top of his head, twitch impatiently, and his tail flicks across the back of Mingyu’s thighs, tangling with Mingyu’s own. “You’re so slow.”

“Hyung,” Mingyu starts, pressing Wonwoo back down into the bed. He grins down at Wonwoo, cataloguing each and every one of his reactions. There’s a flush high on Wonwoo’s cheekbones, one that only deepens when Mingyu nudges his legs further apart. “You’re really pretty, did you know that?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Wonwoo says again, pushing at Mingyu’s chest, but the look on his face tells Mingyu more than words ever could. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Mingyu says simply, ducking down to trail kisses down Wonwoo’s jaw. “Don’t lie.”

Wonwoo sighs, heavy, and even though Mingyu can’t see his face, he knows that he’s rolling his eyes. “The magic is gone. Romance is dead.”

“No, it’s not. See?” Mingyu asks, reaching down to trace circles into Wonwoo’s hips before slipping between his thighs. Wonwoo moans, low and strained and music to Mingyu’s ears, and Mingyu smiles again. “Told you.”

Mingyu pulls back, earning himself a pinched frown from Wonwoo, and he hits back on his heels to lean over to the nightstand. He takes out the bottle of lube, and when he reaches for the box of condoms, Wonwoo’s tail wraps around his wrist.

“No.”

“No?” Mingyu repeats, his hand still on the box.

“No.” Wonwoo turns his face into the pillow, his ears twitching against his head. “Not this time.”

“Oh.” Mingyu’s brain feels like it’s fried or short-circuited or maybe a combination of both. He doesn’t really know what’s wrong with him, but he can’t quite shake the dopey grin that’s taken up residence on his face. “Oh.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s not a big deal,” Wonwoo grumbles. Mingyu drops the bottle next to his legs and braces himself back over Wonwoo, pressing an open-mouthed kiss, then two, into Wonwoo’s neck. “Oh my god, stop, your ears are so— fluffy, stop, they’re really making me ticklish—”

Wonwoo’s voice goes up unnaturally high at that last word, and he reaches up to touch Mingyu’s ears. They’re pointed, like Wonwoo’s are, but they droop a bit at the edges. Mingyu pushes himself back up onto his elbows, staring down at Wonwoo’s face as he slides his fingers down Mingyu’s ears.

“So soft,” Wonwoo murmurs, and the sight of Wonwoo’s face like that, his mouth slightly parted and a rosy flush still high on his cheekbones, is enough to make Mingyu’s heart start to beat erratically against his ribs, enough to make his throat close up. He swallows the words he can’t say and settles for pressing Wonwoo back against the pillow.

“If you wanted to play with my ears, you could’ve just said so,” Mingyu quips lightly, and Wonwoo frowns at him.

“They were in my face, I just can’t not, okay?” Wonwoo huffs before his eyes take on a certain glint as he reaches for the bottle of lube Mingyu had set aside earlier.

It’s the same look he gets whenever he’s about to tell Mingyu that no one else is available tonight so Mingyu’s going to be his partner by default to watch the newest documentary on astrophysics that’s come out, the same look he gets whenever he gets a sleek black box in the mail that Mingyu’s going to find out the contents of later that night in the bedroom. It’s a look that treads the line between conniving and downright wicked, and Mingyu feels his cock, already half-hard from earlier, stir in interest.

“Or, if you’re going to be so damn slow,” Wonwoo announces with no small amount of fanfare, popping the cap and drizzling some of the lube onto his fingers, “I guess I’ll just do all the work.”

Mingyu watches as Wonwoo’s fingers, so long and so slender and so _perfect_ , trace a path down his own torso and between his legs. He watches as Wonwoo’s legs fall open almost automatically, as his fingers trace a circle around his entrance. Mingyu had played with it before, just a few minutes before when Wonwoo had curled up on the bed and sucked him off, and he sees where Wonwoo’s still open and loose.

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, his voice raspy, and if he hadn’t suspected it before, Wonwoo’s definitely rolling his eyes now. “Okay, hyung, go ahead.”

“Why do I even keep you around,” Wonwoo mutters, but then he slips a finger inside himself and whatever he’d been meaning to say after that doesn’t even make it past his lips. “ _Ahh_.”

It’s hard not to take his eyes off of Wonwoo when he’s like this, and Mingyu doesn’t even know where to focus— he could look at where Wonwoo’s cock is straining, red and hard and curved against his stomach, at the beads of precome dripping from the tip, or he could spend the rest of eternity watching Wonwoo’s fingers slip in and out of himself, three now, crooking and pressing against where he’s most sensitive.

So he decides _fuck it_ — he’s tired of watching.

Mingyu’s scooting back on his heels and grabbing Wonwoo’s wrist just as his moans reach a new high, and before Wonwoo can even ask what he’s doing, he’s replacing Wonwoo’s fingers with his own. He traces the same circle around Wonwoo’s hole that he had earlier, and then he ducks his head and licks at Wonwoo’s entrance.

“Fucking _shit_ , Mingyu,” Wonwoo swears, and his legs clamp around Mingyu’s head and his fingers, still slick with lube, bury themselves into Mingyu’s hair. Mingyu hopes that Wonwoo can feel the smile on his face as he fucks Wonwoo with his tongue and his fingers in tandem. “Don’t— _ah_ — Mingyu—”

Mingyu pulls off with a slick pop, and he grins toothily at Wonwoo before licking his lips. Wonwoo scowls, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t quite match the way his chest heaves up and down. “Yes, hyung?”

“Need you in me, Mingyu, please—” Wonwoo doesn’t beg, because he’s Wonwoo, but that comes pretty damn close to one, so Mingyu’s going to count that as a definite win. Mingyu’s about to settle further up, to brace himself on his arms again, but he pauses to think, because he could give Wonwoo what he wants or he could drag it on even more, which means that Wonwoo’s only going to get even more flushed in the way that Mingyu likes the most, which is great because _fuck yes._

“Like this?” Mingyu says airily, dragging two fingers down to work at Wonwoo’s entrance again before pushing in. He scissors his fingers inside Wonwoo, watching the red flush cover Wonwoo’s cheeks again, knowing that just his fingers aren’t enough anymore, and this is exactly what he’s here for.

“Kim Mingyu, you fucking piece of shit, get in me, or I swear to fucking god—” Wonwoo works himself back down onto Mingyu’s fingers, and his eyes are so dark and so deep that Mingyu could drown himself in them, and before he even knows it, he’s slicking himself up with lube and positioning himself at Wonwoo’s entrance and pushing in and—

Mingyu almost doesn’t even hear Wonwoo’s choked out _yes_  because he’s too busy losing himself in the feeling. He always forgets how warm and tight Wonwoo is around him, like Wonwoo can never, ever get enough of him, and he wonders just why he keeps teasing Wonwoo when he could’ve had this from the very beginning. Then he begins to move, his hips rolling against Wonwoo’s.

He fucks Wonwoo the exact way he knows Wonwoo likes to be fucked, like Wonwoo is the only person in the world to Mingyu, and in that moment, Mingyu thinks, dizzily, that that’s true, that there’s nothing else in the world that matters to him other than the way Wonwoo’s legs are wrapped around his hips like a vice grip, or the way Wonwoo’s tail’s tangled itself around Mingyu’s, or the way Wonwoo’s nails drag angry red lines down Mingyu’s shoulders—

And he winces, because Wonwoo definitely hasn’t cut his nails in a while, because those are _definitely_ going to leave marks tomorrow, because Wonwoo is going to stare at them for the next week and his gaze is going to be unbearably heavy with intent every single time, and then he wonders just why he cares what happens in the future, because Wonwoo is here now.

Mingyu leans in and hikes Wonwoo’s legs up onto his shoulders, bending him nearly all the way in half, and he bends down and kisses Wonwoo. Wonwoo’s lips part under his, and he tastes like salt and come and coffee, and Mingyu doesn’t even realize what’s happening until Wonwoo’s fingers lace with his, and it’s then that he figures out that that’s the reason behind the suspicious absence of Wonwoo’s nails against his shoulders. Mingyu can roll with this, though, and he tightens his grip on Wonwoo’s hands as he pushes him even further back against the pillows with every thrust.

“I— hyung—” Mingyu’s close, he knows it, and he knows Wonwoo is, too, judging by the way his gasps sound more and more strained with every second. There’s the familiar heat coiling in him, and he knows he can’t hold himself back any longer, so he gets ready to pull out and come over Wonwoo’s thighs, or maybe his stomach, or maybe even his face, like he always does. Then Wonwoo’s fingers curl around his wrist, closing tightly, and his ankles hook around Mingyu’s neck and Mingyu can’t move anymore.

“I want you to come in me,” Wonwoo says, utterly wicked, utterly filthy, and Mingyu stills, his hips stuttering against Wonwoo’s. Mingyu opens his mouth to protest before Wonwoo grins. “It’s okay, just— please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mingyu says, his voice small, and his heartbeat is thundering so loudly in his ears that he nearly doesn’t even hear Wonwoo’s response.

“It’s okay, I can handle it.” Wonwoo leans up and pecks Mingyu on the nose, before settling back down. “I want to feel all of you.”

Mingyu’s chest feels like it’s about to explode. They’ve never done this— in the year they’ve been together, Mingyu’s always taken precautions to make sure he doesn’t hurt Wonwoo, to make sure that he doesn’t fuck up and do something that they’ll both regret. And now, with Wonwoo lying here beneath him and telling him that it’ll be fine— and of course it’ll be fine, Wonwoo is the strongest person Mingyu knows, and how could he have doubted him?— Mingyu doesn’t know what to do.

He leans back down and kisses Wonwoo again, hoping that he’ll be able to tell Wonwoo the things he can’t say out loud to him like this, and he wraps a hand around Wonwoo’s cock, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. He’s very dimly aware of how the base of his cock is starting to swell inside Wonwoo, and if he’d thought Wonwoo had been tight before, it’s nothing compared to now, and even if he’d wanted to, he can’t pull away anymore. Wonwoo comes with a cry on his lips, and he spills onto Mingyu’s fist and his own stomach, clenching down onto Mingyu’s knot.

Mingyu thinks that that would’ve already ended him, but then Wonwoo whispers, breathless and high, “I love you,” into Mingyu’s ear, and then Mingyu’s coming too, spilling inside Wonwoo, and he ducks his head into the junction of Wonwoo’s neck and his shoulder and bites down just hard enough that it’ll leave a mark tomorrow, too, and Mingyu thinks that _perfect_ , they’ll have matching marks now.

Wonwoo’s eyes are closed, his eyelashes casting long ahadows against his cheeks, and his mouth is open, his lips parting with every exhale. Mingyu places a trembling hand onto Wonwoo’s chest, just to see if Wonwoo’s heart is beating as quickly as his own is— it is— and then Wonwoo’s eyelids open slowly and he takes Mingyu’s hand in his and presses the palm of Mingyu’s hand against his cheek and they stay like that, Wonwoo’s face cradled in Mingyu’s hand, until Mingyu’s knot subsides and he can pull away again.

“Don’t,” Wonwoo says, soft, as Mingyu’s hand slips from his grasp, and Mingyu feels more than just a twinge of regret when he slips away to the bathroom to grab a towel. It disappears, though, when he comes back to bed and Wonwoo is laying there on his side, his arms outstretched. Mingyu wipes the come from Wonwoo’s stomach before he cleans up between his thighs and where he’s still leaking.

“Come back,” Wonwoo murmurs once he’s thrown the towel off somewhere off onto the ground, and Mingyu does. He clambers back into the circle of Wonwoo’s arms, carefully avoiding the wet spot on the sheets, and when Wonwoo tucks his head underneath Mingyu’s chin, Wonwoo’s ears brush against Mingyu’s skin, ticklish and soft. Wonwoo’s tail curls around Mingyu’s thigh and Wonwoo’s ankle hooks around Mingyu’s leg, and Wonwoo sighs, content and fond, into Mingyu’s chest.

He’s always loved this Wonwoo, the Wonwoo who’s pliant and lets Mingyu hold him close at night. But he loves the other sides of Wonwoo, loves the Wonwoo who’ll read his favorite stories out loud whenever Mingyu can’t sleep after a long day, loves the Wonwoo who’ll sit patiently at the dinner table to sample all of Mingyu’s creations, loves the Wonwoo who’ll drag him into the shower to clean up after an attempt at baking a cake turns into an explosion of flour.

“I love you,” Mingyu whispers into Wonwoo’s hair, and he feels the way Wonwoo’s smile curls across his lips and across Mingyu’s skin. It’s easy to fall asleep like this, when they’re curled around each other like parentheses, when it feels like they have the totality of their hopes and dreams cocooned between them, when in the darkness, it really does feel like the world they live in is made up of just the two of them.

The next morning, when Mingyu wakes up, the sun is already high in the sky. The side of the bed next to him is empty and cold, and Mingyu frowns before realizing that Wonwoo’s just in the kitchen. He basks in the always-welcome smells of coffee brewing and bacon being fried before his eyes snap open. He has a pair of sweatpants on and he’s skidding out into the hallway in record time, and when he barges into the kitchen, Wonwoo turns around from where he’s been standing at the stove, his lips already pursed.

“I’m not going to burn down the apartment. I know how to cook eggs,” Wonwoo says, not unpetulantly, and Mingyu fumbles, already caught.

“I know, but— well. I mean, last time, you did end up setting off the smoke alarm.”

Mingyu takes a brief second to admire how good Wonwoo looks. He’s clad in just a pair of boxer shorts, and the shirt that he’s obviously stolen from Mingyu’s closet is too large on him, the collar slipping down his shoulder. Wonwoo’s tail flicks impatiently behind him, but Mingyu’s eyes keep getting drawn to the patch of skin on Wonwoo’s collarbone where he’d bitten down the night before. It’s impossibly attractive, and once Wonwoo’s eyes follow the direction of Mingyu’s gaze, he slaps a hand over the mark.

“You’re fucking depraved, has anyone ever told you that?” Wonwoo mutters, and Mingyu takes the opportunity to crowd him back against the counter. Wonwoo hadn’t always been this short— Mingyu knows that even though Wonwoo says he hates how much Mingyu’s grown in the past few years, he secretly loves it, and that sends a thrill down his spine like no other— but he’s always been this narrow, and it’s easy to duck down and kiss Wonwoo on the nose.

It’s a distraction, of course, from the hands wandering up Wonwoo’s shirt and playing across jut of his hips, across the soft skin of his stomach. Mingyu can’t help himself— he’s always been grabby around Wonwoo, has always felt the urge to grab him by the waist and hold him tight, has always wanted to feel Wonwoo’s skin against his.

It’s when Mingyu leans in to kiss Wonwoo that Wonwoo swats him away, and it’s then that Mingyu realizes that one, Wonwoo has a spatula in his hand, and two, that the bacon on the stove is starting to burn.

“It’s your fault!” Wonwoo jabs a finger into Mingyu’s chest after he’s finished trying to recover the bacon— it’s kind of salvageable, just a little bit too brown on the side, but still edible. “It’s always your fault!”

Oh, right. The last time Wonwoo had set off the smoke alarm, that had also been in the kitchen, and that had also been when Mingyu had crept up behind Wonwoo to blow a raspberry into his neck, which, of course, had led to other things. Oops. He wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s chest, rocking them side to side.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing the back of Wonwoo’s head, feeling Wonwoo’s tail twitch in response between them, and they stand there for a while in silence, just watching the water in the pot that he’s boiling eggs in bubble.

“You’ve ruined me forever,” Wonwoo grumbles, and Mingyu’s heart leaps into his throat. “You’ll never be able to top last night, I fucking guarantee it. That was—”

“Good?” Mingyu offers, and he feels, rather than hears, Wonwoo’s exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, it was more than good, obviously.” Wonwoo turns around in the circle of Mingyu’s arms to loop his arms around Mingyu’s neck. “Fuck you.”

“Always.”

Wonwoo tastes like spearmint, and Mingyu has just a split second to savor the taste of him before Wonwoo’s shoving at his chest and pushing him back out into the hallway.

“Your mouth tastes so damn gross, go brush your teeth!” follows Mingyu down the hallway as he makes his way to the bathroom, skipping as he does. Once he’s brushed up, there’s going to be breakfast and coffee and Wonwoo waiting for him, and really, that’s all the motivation he needs.

 _Yeah_ , Mingyu thinks. _This is love._

**Author's Note:**

> unexpectedly wholesome (??) wonwoo is a cat hybrid, mingyu is a dog hybrid~
> 
> :3c
> 
>  
> 
> the most self indulgent bday fic ever


End file.
